


The more things change.....

by nel_gal



Series: What Happened and What's Going On [2]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Leedus, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-23 03:09:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16610753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nel_gal/pseuds/nel_gal
Summary: Andrew has made a big decision and needs to tell Norman.





	The more things change.....

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Season 8/Season 9. Please do not read further unless you are up to date with the show as at now: S09E06.
> 
> I have made this a companion to my other Leedus work 'The Conversation'. This is set probably 18 months after that, and prior to filming of Season 9.. However - the timing of some of the events discussed in this will not be quite right. But let's just gloss over that and pretend it is.
> 
> As before, I have the utmost respect for these people and I hope this is in no way offensive to anyone.

“You need to tell him first.” She said in her quiet, firm way and Andy realised that although he had known it was the right thing to do, he didn’t _know_ it until she said it.

This, after weeks of painful deliberation, her calm clever words helping him to find his way through the cloud of his confusion. Perspective.  That was what he had lost over the years, and what she helped him find. What she always helped him find, amongst other things.

She had woken in the middle of the night to him in tears not once or twice as he deliberated his decision, weighing up the pros and cons. Methodically dumping everything off the scales before picking it all back up and trying again. Never stacking it the same way twice, balance always tipping this way then that, imperceptibly before he repeated the process again, again.

And then perspective.  “You’re not the first person to leave a job Andy, or even the first lead to leave a show.  The world moves on, keeps spinning you know, most probably even without _you_.” Her smile kind as always. “You just need to decide what you want to do. For yourself.” She would support him whichever way, he already knew that.

It was time, almost nine years. In a world where most actors, most everyone, had changed jobs multiple times. But it wasn’t any job of course. It was the best job in the world, wasn’t it? Even now.

He wanted to spend more time with his children.  They seemed to be growing up so fast and each missed moment hit him right in the chest.  He missed living in England for most of the year, he missed home. And if he were honest, something changed in how he felt about the show when the kid left.  It was beyond surreal being Rick Grimes without Carl.

Things had changed off camera too.  He still wasn’t sure whether it was Diane or JDM who set the change in motion. He wanted to blame them both ideally, blame _one_ of them at the very least. But he had a suspicion it was his own fault.  Too long, he had left it too long and no one could be expected to wait forever. They were still great friends of course, best buddies, but the look was not quite the same, the light touches fewer, the smiles smaller. And things always now left unsaid. The last time they _really_ talked was after WSC Atlanta eighteen months ago. First and last time, Andy allowed, which was part of the problem wasn’t it? They agreed then not to change anything, and they didn’t. But then things around them changed anyway.

The show changed, then the Diane thing got more serious, and JDM continued to hang around and ride his bike, and the fans loved him, or loved to hate his character at least and it was great for ratings, and he was so good looking. And the fucking bike.

Andy tried to love bikes. He loved looking at Norman on his bike and riding pillion with him the few times he had been tipsy enough to be talked into it. Andy tried to like JDM too, to have the same jokes, but he was never quite successful, not in the way Jeff and Norman were. Not like _he_ and Norman used to be.

He sighed and pulled out his phone, having finally joined this texting business. He typed off a quick message.

**A: Hi. I need to talk to you in person about something. Where are you this weekend?**

The reply was almost instant.

**N: Senoia house**

**A: Ok, I’ll book a ticket. Need to talk alone.**

**N: Sure thing. Stay over.**

\--------------------------------

Andy didn’t sleep on the flight from Heathrow, or in the long taxi ride he chose because he was too jet lagged to drive on the wrong side of the road.

It was evening when he knocked on the door, crumpled and disheveled. Curls everywhere.

He broke into a wide grin when Norman opened the door.

“Dude.” Norman came forward and wrapped him in a bear hug.

“Norman, man, I’ve been travelling for fifteen hours, I stink.”

Norman responded by placing his nose as close to Andy’s underarm as he could and inhaling.

“Stop.” Andy tried unsuccessfully to wriggle out of his embrace.

“No way, I like how you smell.” The words hung there for a moment before Norman let go.

“Come in. Chuck your bag over there.” He gestured vaguely between Andy’s duffle bag and the hallway. “I’ve just been listening to this new band, they’re awesome.” He pressed a button on a remote control and loud music blared from hidden speakers.

‘Nice.’ He mouthed over the ruckus.

They wandered to the kitchen and Andy perched on a stool at the counter.

“I’m making toasted sandwiches, want one?”

He nodded. Starving.

Norman stared at him a moment as though he was about to say something, then apparently thought better of it and busied himself with the sandwiches.  They talked about their kids whilst Norman buttered bread and layered cheese with some kind of processed meat.

“….he just graduated, can you believe it? I can’t believe it, I mean, he’s a lot smarter than me, thanks to his Mum, but still, wasn’t too sure for a while there.  All her doing, of course.”

“It was probably about ninety-nine percent her, but you contributed too man, don’t underestimate yourself.” Andy joked.

“These are ready, let’s eat on the couch.” Norman pushed a plate to him and wandered over to his large couch, Andy following.

They ate in silence for a while, staring out at the garden lights.

“You’re done.” Norman announced.

“Yeah, they really hit the spot.” Andy motioned to his empty plate.

“No, I mean the show. You’re finished?”

Andy met his eyes, trying to read the expression behind the long fringe. He sighed and nodded, never breaking eye contact.

“Yeah.” He released a breath he didn’t know he had been holding and looked away as he felt his eyes prickle.

“Hey.” Norman said gently, waiting for Andy to make eye contact again. “It’s ok Man.”

And that’s all it took for Andy to crumble. His breath came out in sobs and he hunched over. Norman slid closer on the couch, a muscular arm wrapping around Andy’s shoulder, drawing him closer. They sat like that for minutes, Andy’s body wracked with sobs, Norman pulling him tighter and tighter, occasionally murmuring ‘It’s ok.’

Eventually the sobs subsided, replaced with loud breaths.  He sat up straighter and scrubbed his hand over his face before pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I let Scott talk me into doing some movies.”

Norman raised an eyebrow. “Tell me after. First we need a drink.” He jumped up and returned a minute later with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.

He poured and handed one to Andy. “A toast. To Rick Grimes.” They clinked and sculled the liquid.

“Rick-Fucking-Grimes.” Andy pondered, as Norman poured another shot and handed his glass back.

Norman raised his own glass, “And to Andrew-Fucking-Lincoln. The best actor and person I have ever worked with.” Another clink. A shy smile from Andy.

“My turn. To Daryl-Fucking-Dixon, who wasn’t even supposed to exist, but for the genius and the biceps of Norman-Fucking-Reedus.” They dissolved into giggles before downing the shot.

“To Darabont.”

“To AMC.”

The toast went on.

“Shit man, I knew it. As soon as I got your text.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. What else would you need to talk to me alone about?”

“It could have been a booty-call.” Andy said dead pan enunciating with his perfect British accent, and they cracked up again, Norman pouring a shot.

“To booty-calls.” They drank.

And there was silence, before Andy said. “What if it were?”

Norman’s eyes flashed and Andy glimpsed the vulnerability as Norman-Fucking-Reedus stared straight into his eyes and leaned forward to capture his lips in a filthy open-mouthed kiss.

Despite having asked the question, Andy was flustered and forgot to respond, but Norman pushed forward and wrapped a hand behind his head so he was trapped as an insistent tongue slid between his lips.  The kiss was all Norman taking control of Andy’s mouth, over and over again and it felt amazing. It felt sexy as hell.

They drew apart, staring into each other’s eyes before Andy lurched forward awkwardly at first, before smoothly planting his lips back against Norman’s and this time they both participated, wrapping arms around each other as best they could whilst sitting on the couch, before Andy pressed forward and Norman was forced to lie on his back, Andy settled on top of him.

It was slow. Andy liked to kiss slow and he had an inkling it would drive Mister can’t-stand-still crazy, and he was right.

“Andy. You’re killing me here.” He moaned between kisses.

“Hmmmm.” Andy just hummed into his mouth and continued, now pressing his hips down to grind against his friend and elicit a gasp.

They continued like that for a while, Andy controlling the speed, hands rubbing wherever they could reach, until he stood up and held out his hand.

Norman grunted and allowed himself to be pulled to standing, surprised and impressed as always at the strength of the man, despite his slight frame.

Andy ran his fingers up and down his friend’s arms. “I don’t know what I’ll do when I don’t see you every day for most of the year. I’ve wanted to touch you like this for so long, and I feel like I’ve left it too late.” He whispered.  “Norman, I want to take you to bed.”

Norman laughed gently and brushed a wisp of hair from his friend’s eyes. “Is that how you English say you want to fuck?”

Andy flushed.

“C’mon, I need to piss. Let’s get cleaned up and go to bed.” Norman announced, tugging Andy’s hand.

Norman disappeared to his ensuite bathroom and Andy stared into the mirror of the guest bathroom, splashing cold water on his face.  He looked strung out, drunk, jet lagged. He was pretty sure this was a bad idea, but he wanted it.

He left the bathroom and made his want to Norman’s bedroom to find his friend sitting on the edge of the bed.

“We don’t have to fuck.” Andy announced at the same time as Norman said, “We could just go to sleep.”

They laughed and stripped down to their underwear and got into Norman’s enormous bed, embracing and kissing some more.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to go to sleep like this.” Andy admitted, his erection rubbing against his friend’s hip.

Norman worked a hand down to cup the front of his Andy’s pants and squeezed to elicit a long heady moan from the Brit. He edged his fingers under the waistband of his boxers and slipped his hand down to firmly grip his friend.

“Norman.” Andy breathed out. He reached down to mirror his friend’s actions.

“Andy.”

They maintained eye contact whilst moving their hands in rhythm before both spending within seconds of each other.

Norman brought his hand to his mouth and licked his fingers whilst Andy stared transfixed. When he could break from the trance, he made his way to the bathroom to clean up and returned with a damp towel which he handed to Norman.

Andy settled back down, and they drifted off to sleep with Andy pressed tightly against Norman’s back, his right arm draped over his waist.

\-------------------------------

The next morning Norman found Andy standing against the railing on his back deck nursing a coffee, looking out over the neatly manicured yard.  He came to stand by his side so they were shoulder to shoulder.

He broke the peaceful silence after a few minutes.“Diane’s pregnant.”

Andy didn’t turn his head, but his face broke into a large grin and he clapped Norman on the back.

“I’m so happy for you man. You’re a great father.”

“I’m frigging terrified. I mean, I'm pushing fifty. I must be crazy.”

“You’ll be fine. It’s wonderful news.  Really beautiful news.” Andy turned to his side to face his friend.

“Last night.” He paused and wished he didn’t have to ask. “Please tell me you’ve never done that with JDM?” Andy knew his eyes were wide, begging.

Norman’s expression softened. “No. It's not like that.” He reached a hand out to briefly touch his friend's arm.

Relief washed over Andy’s features and he drank the remainder of his coffee. “I don’t want to, but I need to leave soon. Flight home is booked for this afternoon.”

Norman nodded gravely. “You’ll be back in what, a month tops?”

“Three weeks. But it won’t be….”

“The same.” Norman finished.

Andy rested the mug on the railing and drew his friend closer.  They met for a soft slow kiss. “I love you.”

“Me too man.” The voice was husky, a lot like Daryl’s.

\-------------------------------

Andy ordered a double scotch on the flight and fell asleep as soon as he finished it.

He switched his phone on after landing and heard the now-familiar pings of sms and voice mail. He flipped it open and read Norman’s message first.

**N: Thought about it and realised this is excellent timing. Soon you’ll be unemployed… I’ll be in the market for an English Nanny.  It’s perfect!**

Andy smiled and choked back laughter. What was he so worried about? The important things weren’t going to change. 

He devoted the cab ride home to plotting the prank he would pull in three weeks.

**Author's Note:**

> I always knew Andy would leave the show at some stage. I felt he has absolutely loved being involved, but it's always been a double-edged sword for him because he could never do other work he wanted, could never live where he wanted, and it took up a lot of years when his kids were small.. It almost became too popular, and how can you justify giving that up? Not to mention working with Norman Reedus! But this in mind, I always thought I would be ok with Rick going, because it was Carl's story anyway. 
> 
> The moment in Season 8 when I realised Carl was going to die, the first thought to pop into my head was 'they've killed the show' and in some ways I will never get past it. I still can't fathom it. Even though this season has so far been a lot more hopeful, a lot better than last, I can't stop thinking how much better would it be with Carl.
> 
> How do I feel that Rick didn't die? A little conflicted, I had wanted to rip off the band aid and be done with it even though I knew it would be difficult. So this feels a little like cheating. On the other hand, some Rick Grimes movies? And even though they say it's not planned, the potential for a Rick reunion down the track, with Michonne/Judith/RJ and of course, Daryl... Wow, that would be absolutely amazing.. Although still so much better if Carl were still alive! F U Gimple (nope, I am totally not over it).


End file.
